If You Give a Boy a Camera
by Spam-The-Great
Summary: Tim recieves an assignment from Film Class to do a documentary with his video camera...he entitles it "My Life With a Rich Guy"...things escalate from there...


_A/N: Well well, I'm back.  Taking a break from my other story to re-liven my writing inspiration a bit.  This little diddy was written early one Friday evening! Mucho gracious a mi hermana!  For all of you spanish illiterate, I said, much thanks to my sister.  She helped me write a whole heck load of this!  She's got some great ideas!  Check out her awesome stories on ff.net at http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=39679!  Anywayz, enjoy!_****

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**If You Give a Boy a Camera...******

_Monday, 3:34 p.m._      

            "No really Mr. Benniger!  Bruce Wayne really did break my tape!"  The youth wailed and whined after the class had been dismissed.

            "Oh really Mr. Drake...it should be interesting to hear this one..."  The film teacher smirked, leaning back in his chair.  He was obviously not buying it.

            "Ok,"  Tim shifted nervously, "Ya see...this is how it went..."

_Saturday, 9:33 a.m.:  PAST_        

            "Hello again!  It is very early, especially for me being a teenager, on a beautiful Saturday morning!  And, you're currently tuned in to a special presentation that's entitled, 'My Life with a Rich Guy.'  Oh, F-Y-I, the author of this wonderful documentary is Tim Drake!  So, teach, give the 'A' to that wonderful guy!  *ahem*So, to begin we'll start here," He opened up a door, revealing what appeared to be a dump heap, "This here's me room....y-uuuuuup...."  Tim scanned the video camera past the piles of laundry, mountains of trash and the other undistinguishable hills that lined the floor.  

            "If you're wondering, my carpet's actually a very nice emerald green, to tell you the truth, I just found that out just last week, whodah thunk?"  He bounded over the terrain of his room and landed on the only viewable clear spot, his bed.  "Sorry to all you motion sickees!"  

            He faced the lens toward himself, "Now, if you're wondering why my room's a 'pig stye' when I've got a great Butler named Alfred, I'll tell you.  Ya see, once upon a time there was a boy who messed up more than his Butler could clean so, the Butler got sick and tired of it.  One day, he came up to the boy and bopped him over the head a couple o' times with his feather duster before muttering," Tim switched to a phony British accent, "'Dear chap, don't think that I'll bloody well clean your room when you bloody well mess it up more than I bloody well clean!  It's not my responsibility anymore!'"  

            Reverting back to his regular voice, he finished, "Needless to say, the boy put an icepack on his bumps and tried for himself to clean his messy room but, found it to be too much work!  So," He turned the lens around to view his room once more, "It ended up looking like this!  Now that I've told you this boring story, let's go have some fun!"  Tim smirked devishly and rushed out of his room, through the door.

_12:31 p.m._

"Man...where's some good entertainment when you need it..."  Tim was sprawled out on the living room couch, peering through the camera while, obsessive compulsively zooming in and out of a dark spot on the ceiling.  "Wonder how that got up there...huh....interesting..."

_3:42 p.m._

             "Ohoho!  We have a special treat!  Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne's other surrogate son, has decided to grace us with his presence!"  Tim whispered into the camera microphone as he snuck up to the weight room doorway, "He's currently residing in the Weight room and we're here to gaze upon his unearthly beauty *snicker*."  Tim stealthily dove through the doorway, rolling behind a weight rack.  He paused a moment, holding his breath, to make sure he was unheard.  

            After he was fully reassured, he poked the camera out from behind the weight rack. Looking through the eyepiece, he whispered to his audience, "Now, to find out where Mr. Grayson is...aha!  There he is!"  Tim zoomed in on a Dick performing bench presses.  It was indeed quite a sight to see Mr. Grayson lying on the bench, muscles bulging through his wife beater while he rhymically lifted the barbell.  His handsome face set in grim determination as an occasional grunt passed through his lips.  

            A while filled with silence passed as the ease-dropper patiently waited for something of interest to occur.  Lucky for Tim, fate was on his side.  Just as Dick was finishing off his last set of presses, he emitted on last long grunt followed by a ripping noise as Mr. Grayson rested the barbell back on its rack above him.

            Tim snickered, "Yes folks, you heard it here!  Mr. Grayson has just cut the cheese!"

            Dick, hearing Tim conversing with himself, chuckled back, "You just wish you could rip one out that loud!"

            "Oh, and by the way ladies, he's available!"  The youth stood up, revealing his hiding place as he zoomed in further on Dick's figure.  

            The young man face turned sour, "Did you just get all that?  What the hell!  You better be able to sprint with that thing!"

            "Ooh, he's feisty!"  Tim began to run, camera bobbing in hand.

            "Get back here weasel!  When I get my hands on you..."  Dick charged, close on his heels.

_5:13 p.m._

Alfred finished applying the last bandage to the poor boy's head.  "Master Drake, if you plan on taunting Master Grayson you had best watch where you are running," He drolly informed the youth.

            Tim, ignoring the Butler's advice, switched the camera back on and facing the camera apologized, "Sorry about the big bump there folks!  How was I suppose to know Alfred had just mopped up the floor!  Luckily, this camera here," He patted the camera, "slid underneath the table!  Ha!  Dick never found it!"  He snickered at the craftiness of his situation.  

            Alfred retorted, "Yes, but he found _you_ Master Drake...no more bull runs through the mansion.  Oh, and that camera, Master Drake, you should treat with more care."  The Butler picked up his medical tray and walked out.

            "Ah...the trusty butler Alfred!  Ain't he a gem?"  Tim turned the camera as the lens followed the Butler out.  "Now, what other fun can we pick up on?"

_7:23 p.m._

            "Ah look!  The rich guy comes home from work!  Honey!  I'm home!"  Tim greeted.

            "Hello Tim...how are you?"  Bruce stared into the camera lens, "Project for school?"

            "Why yes Bruce," The youth followed the millionaire as he walked into the living room, "How'd you guess?"

            "Must be luck..."  The Millionaire, now feeling the awkwardness of being watched, warily took of his coat and handed it to Alfred.  He muttered to the Butler, "I feel like I'm at a press conference..." And walked off up the large staircase with Tim's camera lens following every step of the way.

            "Ladies and Gentlemen!  Bruce has left the building!"

            "Master Drake, if you'd please shut that contraption off and come to eat dinner, it would do us all a favor."  Alfred wryly stated.

            "Sure thing Alfred!  Just let me find the off button!"

            As Tim entered into the dining room, Dick and Bruce were already seated, making small talk.

            "Hellloooo everyone!"  He placed the camera right next to the place mat, "I'm hungry, how bout you?"

            "Tim...is that thing turned off?"

            "Yup!"

            "Then why's the red light blinking?"

            "Because Bruce...it's...just special like that...."  The youth grinned.

            "I know the damn's thing on because the light's blinking!  We're not stupid Tim!"  Dick leaned over the table, attempting to grab for the loathed object.

            "No!"  He grabbed the beloved camera, "Please Bruce, may I just leave it on?  It's for a project for school and I need these shots!"  Tim threw a puppy dog expression towards the stoic man.

            "You need to see us eating?"  Bruce questioned.

            "Yes."

            "Why?"

            "Because I need to show the _whole_ day!  Millionaire's have to eat, ya know!"

            "Yeah..."  Bruce rubbed his temples signaling that stress had caught up with him, "Tim, please, I've been around camera's all day...I don't need one here..."

            "But...Bruce!"

            "Yeah, he's been everywhere with that thing!"  Dick retorted.

            Tim eyed Dick slyly, "Which reminds me...I have something to show you Bruce..."

            Unbenounced to Tim, Alfred appeared behind him, shutting off the camera. 

            "Hey!"

_9:57 p.m._

 Turning the camera back on, Tim fell backwards on the soft carpet of the waiting room. The first thing the lens recorded, was another headshot.  He began by conversing with the unseen audience, "Sorry about that folks!  Dinner did prove to be interesting and I wish that I had caught it on tape but, Alfred took the camera from me and wouldn't give it back till after I ate my whole stinkin' pile of dinner.  It was soo hard for me to shove that steak and those seasoned potatoes down my throat.  Yes, I _am_ joking! Oh, once I got my camera back, I showed Bruce the footage of Dick layin' the big one!  He almost choked on his coffee from laughing so hard.  I thought I saw Alfred smile...or mebbe it was my imagination...*ahem*Of course, Dick scrambled after me but, I was under the table before he could get his grubby hands on me!  Ah, I like being small!  I accidentally smacked Bruce's foot crawling through but, after I apologized profusely, amidst Dick's incoherent yells, he didn't mind!  So, after Dick got stuck inbetween two chairs trying to crawl after me, darn his bodacious hips, and I got away with my trusty camera in hand, Bruce got his peace and quiet and I watched where I was going!  Alfred should be proud!"  He smirked and continued, "Now...to find some other blackmail..."

            He turned the camera back around, lifting himself up, "I think I'll be a vagrant and wander the halls!"  He shuffled throughout the hallways, hoping to bump into something worth video taping.  Of course, Tim was a very lucky fellow, as the day proved to be, and happen to shuffle down Alfred's hallway.  As he was walking past an anonymous door, he abruptly stopped and lifted the camera for another face shot, "Did I just hear what I thought I heard?"  He scuttled backwards and pasted his ear against the doorway, camera-eye on him the entire time.   

            "I do have evidence to believe I did!" He stifled a snicker and slowly opened the door, as the sound of running water became more evident.  Tim cracked the door just enough to squeeze his head and the camera through the opening as steam arose through the cracks.  He whispered to the lens, "And here we are folks, in Alfred's bathroom.  You know, the stiff Butler who does everything.  I still think he can fly but, Bruce says he's not _that_ good...Anywho, he's currently taking a shower and, shhh, listen...."  A beautiful tenor voice could be heard echoing from a small radio that was placed on the counter a safe distance away.  The singing was accompanied by a full orchestra and...Alfred's voice? 

            "Yup, that's the ol' Butler singin'!  Eat your heart out Celine!  Move over Enrique!  Here comes Alfred!"  Tim continued to whisper to the unseen audience.  As odd as it was, Alfred had a very beautiful voice.  It was smooth and sounded almost identical to the tenor on the radio.  Just then, Alfred graced the camera with a show of his skill and belted out a high note that would make any man raise the question of their manliness.  Tim remarked on this, "See?  What I'd tell you!  He's a man of many and probably all talents!  He so too can fly!  I'll show Bruce up one of these days…"

            Suddenly, the water stopped signaling that it was time that Tim left.  He quickly and stealthily slinked out of the opening and bolted away, "No time to close the door.  Poor Alfred's gonna be awfully cold when he walks out of the shower but, I'd rather have a cold, grumpy Butler than me having two weeks of bathroom cleaning duty!"

_11:47 p.m._

"Listen Barb, I had a great time..."

            "So did I..."

            "I'm glad you came..."

            "So am I..."

            Dick and Barbara nervously shifted around in the entrance hallway located directly outside of the living room.  It was easily viewable and easily accessible.  Both of which, Tim had discovered and took advantage of.

            "Aww...ain't it sweet?  The lovebirds came back from the typical yet, romantic movie and a dinner night.  Lesse if they decide to suck a little face!"  Tim softly spoke to the camera as he peeped through the lens.  He was underneath the huge couch, poking the lens through the skirt.  

            "Uhm...Dick?"

            "Shhh Barbara..."  Dick placed a finger on her lips and earnestly gazed into her blue eyes.  Leaning forward, he wrapped his arms around her waist as they shared a beautiful yet simple kiss.  Soon they were making their way over to the large couch in the living room. 

            "Crap...no, they're gonna sit on me!"  Tim hoarsely whispered as he snuck the camera lens back underneath the couch with him.  He placed the lens lid in its rightful place, forgetting to turn the camera off due to the urgency of the situation.  All was dark to the unseen audience yet, all was heard.

            "AH! Something moved!  There's something down there!"

            "You're right Barb!"

            "...uh...BOOOO!  I AM THE SOUL OF THIS COUCH!  YOU HAVE DEEPLY OFFENDED ME BY TAKING YOUR EVIL, RAMPAGING HORMONES ONTO MY LOVELY AND DECORATIVE CUSHIONS!"

            All was quiet.

            "Tim...is that you?"

            "I AM THE SOUL OF THIS COUCH-GWAAAAAAH!  NOOO, GET OFF ME!  I CAN'T*gasp*BREATHE!       

            "Ha!  This is so much better than taking your damn camera!"

            "NO. STOP. JUMPING. ON. ME. I'M. GONNA. DIE! HELP!

            "Dick, is this really necessary?"

            "Yeah Barb!  You have no idea what he did to me today!"

            "What's going on here?"

            "Uh...hi Bruce!"

            "Hey Bruce."

            "BRUCE!  HELP ME!"

            "Who is that under there?"

            "Tim."

            "Huh...."

            A few seconds of silence passed as noise once again filled the air.

            "Ha!  Evil brat!  Bruce isn't gonna help you! He just walked back upstairs!  I'm gonna jump on you till I make jelly!  Tim jelly that is!  Flavoring: revenge!"

            "I'm gonna die…"

            "Whatever Dick...I'm going to get going, I'll see ya tomorrow."

            "Wait...no...Barb!  Wait!!  Nooo...please, come back here!"  The begging voice faded as a door slammed.

            "*gasp* I'm safe...Once again, Tim Drake has survived....oooh...I feel like jelly...Hey, wait...was this on?"

_Sunday, 10:02 a.m.     _

 "Here you are Master Bruce."  Alfred set down a cup of coffee before the millionaire.

            "Thank you Alfred."  The billionaire smiled and continued searching the newspaper, "Hmmm...listen to this Alfred."

            The white-haired Butler lent his ear but, continued on filling a cup of coffee for Dick Grayson, who had spent the night.

            "Enron crashed today....quite fascinating, don't you think?  It's a good thing I listened to your advice and didn't invest in it."

            "Yes, Master Bruce, a Butler's intuition is always right."

            Bruce smirked, "Yes Alfred."

            "Mornin'..."  A groggy voice greeted the two.

            "Good morning, Master Dick."

            Bruce nodded, eyes not leaving the paper.

            Dick flopped into his chair and took the so-desired coffee, "Thanks Alfred...mmmm...caffeine..." He sipped it slowly.

            Breakfast continued on in that manner until, one sound shifted it all.

            *thump* 

            "OOF!"

            All continued their tasks, undaunted by the sudden presence of another.

            Bruce immediately spoke, "Tim...how many times have I told you not to slide down the banister?  It seems to me that every time you attempt to slid down it, you fall off it…"

            The raven-haired boy, after picking up his beloved camera, began filming, ignoring Bruce's statement.  "Guess what time it is everyone?  Time for a hearty breakfast with the locals!"  He zoomed in on Dick's sleep-deprived face which, received him a scowl, "Oh, bitey, aren't they?  But, once they get that caffeine running through their system, they'll be as friendly as a puppy!"  Dick's current cup of coffee received a close-up.   

            The camera suddenly switched interest as it laid its lovely lens on Bruce Wayne, "I bet you're all wonderin' what Mr. Wayne has for readage in those million dollar hands of his.  Well, let's go find out!"  Tim pranced over to Bruce, shoving the camera in his face receiving an undesired close up and a glare.  Giving the same treatment to the glare as he did the previously asked question from the millionaire, he switched subjects, "I know you're all wonderin' what a rich guy eats for breakfast so, I'm here to answer that question!"  

            Upsetting Bruce's newspaper, he shoved the camera lens towards the solitary bowl that lay before Bruce.  "Feast your eyes upon Bruce's hearty breakfast of...." He stopped, inches from the milk and floating puffs, "Cocoa Cocoa puffs!  Mmmmmm!  Does the body good.  Say Bruce, is this how you keep awake during those important business meetings?"

            "Tim..."  A stern voice spoke.

            "Yes Bruce."  And whirling the camera and body attached towards the voice, he never realized how close he was.

            *thud*

            The camera landed on the table, viewing the lonely bowl of soggy breakfast cereal.

            "Oops...sorry Bruce...wow, that's already starting to form a lump..."

            "Oooh...."

            "I'll get some ice Master Bruce!"  

            "Idiot!  Look what you did!  Hey Bruce, you alright?"

            "Wow...hey Bruce, does it hurt when I do this?"

            "OW!"

_Monday, 3:45 p.m.:  PRESENT_

"And so, Mr. Benniger, after he regained consciousness, Bruce took my video camera and destroyed the tape!"

            By this time the teacher was finishing off a fit of laughter.  He wiped the tears from his eyes and shook his head, "Ah, Timmy m'boy, only you!"

            "Yes!"  The youth knew he was getting out of this one.

            "It's quite a number of humorous events..."

            "Yes!"

            "And quite a well thought out _tale_..."

            "No!"

            "But..."

            "Yes!"

            "I will give you another day extension!  No more, no less!  With a tale like that, you've earned it!"  Mr. Benniger handed Tim another tape,  "But you have to get your video camera back!"  And with a wink, the film teacher pushed Tim out the door, closing it behind the raven-haired boy.

            "Ah....tale indeed...just wait till he sees what I get this time!"  With an evil smirk once again gracing the youth's face, he scurried down the hall to the awaiting limo, "Bruce is having a cocktail party tonight…"

The End


End file.
